Aug 25

When I was in school, I frequently had no lunch to eat. If I had a lunch it was two slices of white bread with mayonaise. I liked mayonaise sandwiches. In fact I still love mayonaise. My kids can not imagine anyone that enjoys it, but it can be tasty when you are really hungry.

I watched other kids pull food out of their lunch pails with wonder. They would have meat and lettuce and pickles on their their sandwich. There was an apple or banana for them to enjoy.. Maybe cookies or a twinkie was included. They had milk or juice to drink. And the most amazing thing of all, they would not eat their whole lunch. I could not even imagine leaving delicious food uneaten.

In high school, I would eat my sandwich in hiding. Then I would go to the library and read. Maybe that could help me understand why I am still so tempted to sneak food. Also, my jealousy of other children’s food may explain why today I have such a powerful sense of ” I am going to eat this food. I don’t care what people say and I don’t care how unhealthy it is.”

Being hungry is humiliating at a very basic level. The logic goes like this. ” If I were a good person I would have good food to eat. Since I am so often hungry, I must be very unworthy.”

Of course, that logic was never consciously thought, but the feeling of being unworthy has always been a basic battle I have needed to fight.

Aug 26

I attended a meeting yesterday morning  and a meeting last night . The topic at both meetings was freedom. I received an e-mail from a good friend yesterday. She closed her note by saying,” Have a free day.”

When a subject keeps popping up like that, I tend to believe that it is a message from my Higher Power.

As I woke this morning, I applied the freedom message to my planning for the day. My felt need was comfort for a deep sorrow I had over a situation in my family. I decided that some self indulgence was in order so I went out to breakfast.

I ordered three eggs, pancakes, and crisp bacon. That is certainly not my idea of healthy eating. It was however, the best I could do to eat healthy this morning.

Was that breakfast an appropriate expression of freedom? To the extent I define freedom as doing what I want to do, it was appropriate.

I actually define freedom as the ability to be the person I want to be. It is the ability to actualize my God created potential. By that definition, eating that breakfast was not a good expression of freedom.

However, my goal is to learn to eat healthy over the next year. I expect to gradually improve my food habits. I do not expect immediate perfection.

There was some good news in regard to my breakfast. I ate almost none of the egg yokes. I only ate about two thirds of the pancakes. The bacon was very crisp and dry. I did not use cream or sugar in my coffee.

A year or two ago, I would have been sure to have finished the entire plate. So I am getting better.

After breakfast, I kept my harsh parent inner voice under control. I did not shame myself . That is probably the most significant indication of my progress. Vicious self criticism has been a very powerful contributor to overeating as well as a driving force behind all my character defects.

I once heard a man say the following. “I am not the man I want to be, I am not the man I will be, but thank God I am not the man I used to be.

Aug 27

I was very tired last night. I had kept putting off getting groceries, so I didn’t have healthy and easy to prepare food on hand. I decided I would wait to eat. I came upstairs to write emails.

These computers are on the 11th floor. They are provided by the apartment complex where I live. When I came up here to use the computers, someone had given fresh donuts for anyone to eat. I picked up a maple donut.

It tasted good in a forbidden fruit kind of way. It did not taste good in a satisfying kind of way. There was no hot coffee to drink with the donut. therefore, the grease on the donut accumulated on the inside of my mouth instead of being washed unnoticed down my throat by the hot liquid.

When I left to go back down to my place, I snuck another donut [chocolate] and ate it on the elevator. After both donuts were eaten, I felt sick and uncomfortable.

Not only had I eaten donuts, I had eaten them just before I went to sleep. I am told that is the the least expedient time of day to overeat from a weight gain point of view.

There was no point in me hammering myself. The donuts were already eaten. I was not going to throw them up. That seemed like a very dangerous habit for me to risk getting into.

I had one healthy approach available to me. I could think about how that had happened to me.If I could see a way I could avoid binges like my donut indulgences, maybe I could avoid lots of future binges.

If I could learn from my mistake I could make my mistake work for me not against me. Making food success and food failure both work for me seems like the path of recovery to me. If I can figure out anything helpful, I’ll write about it tomorrow.

Aug 28

I have taught my daughters to not try to save money on brakes and tires for there cars. Four small brake pads and four small areas where the tires touch the road, control all turning, accelerating, stopping, and road holding when you drive. Spend whatever you need to spend to have good brakes and tires.

Similarly, food is so important to the quality of my life, that I need to spend whatever I need to, to have appropriate food.That is the lesson I want to learn from eating donuts yesterday. Trying to save money by not buying adequate food or by buying unhealthy or hard to prepare food is not wise for me. I need to spend what I need to spend to have easily prepared, tasty, healthy food on hand at all times.

Here is a list of healthy foods I want to use to guide me. Tomatoes, olive oil, red grapes, garlic, spinach,whole grains, salmon, nuts, blueberries, tea.

There is no sacrifice here I love ALL these foods.

Aug 29

It was Christmas time. I was in the fifth grade.My class was going to have a Christmas party. Everyone was supposed to bring a Christmas treat from home. That did not seem like a possibility to me. I felt embarassed and ashamed.

It interests me that I could not ask for help from anyone. Getting help was not a part of my life. Today, I am sure that my sisters would have at least sympathised, but in my view of my world, I was on my own. I felt I had to solve all my problems by myself.

The family had very inadequate food. The night before the party I looked with desperation into the icebox.[Notice, we had an icebox not a refridgerator.] Was there anything I could take to the party?

I saw something that gave me hope. We had a  half full jar of grape jelly and two thirds a loaf of white bread. In my eyes the jelly and bread were a solution.

That may be hard for you to understand. How could bread and jelly seem like an adequate contribution to a Christmas party? If you are asking that question, maybe it is because you have never tasted how good bread and jelly taste when you get home from school really hungry because you had no lunch.

The next day I took my contribution to school. As soon as I saw what the other kids had brought, I knew I had a big problem. They had brought beautiful cookies, homemade candy, cakes and other wonderful things.

I was filled with dread. I did not see how I could back out. The teacher had seen what I had brought and had already put it on the table.I was extremely anxious all day waiting for the party to start.

Some of the mothers had come for the party. I took courage at the sight of those  sweet looking women. Maybe one of them would say,”White bread and jelly! I love white bread and jelly!”

Of course none of the Mothers said that. The other kids began to say.”Who brought bread and jelly? Why would anyone bring bread and jelly?”

I tried to bluff my way through the situation. My bravado only made the mocking worse. I don’t have any memory of the adults intervening in any way.

After school I dreaded walking across rhe play ground with my uneaten food. I had had all the ridicule I felt I could stand for one day. I wanted to just throw it away, but there were too many hungry people at home for me to do that.

I took the food home. I made myself a sandwich and put the leftovers away. I didn’t mention anything to anyone.

Aug 30

At this time in my life, I feel tons of anxiety. The source of my anxiety is a very uncomfortable situation in my family. Anxiety always carries with it the possibility of overeating. I am trying hard not to eat my way through this situation.

Part of the problem for me is that I have historically used food as my primary source of comfort. Some other day I will tell you the story about how I turned away from human comfort and turned to food instead. However, for now I will just say I have habitually used eating to console myself.

The other reason anxiety tends to produce overeating is that hunger feels the same to me as anxious. I get a pain in my belly when I am hungry. I get a very similar pain in my belly when I am afraid. It would help me if when I feel hungry I would pause and ask myself, “Are you hungry or are you anxious about something?”

If I took the time to understand exactly what I was feeling, I could learn to eat when I am hungry and to use the tools of my program when I am anxious.

Aug 31

A friend of mine was having a problem getting himself to do the writing that he loves to do. He mentioned the problem to his therapist.

The therapist asked him, “What do you do to try to get yourself to write?”

My friend responded, “I say you get right in there and write. No more excuses.”

The therapist said, “That sounds like a harsh parent response to me.”

Here is what I think the therapist was trying to point out. The harsh parent can sometimes elicit a fear based obedient, short term response. So the harsh parent response can work in the the temporarily. However, it is counter productive in the long run.

The reason for its counter productiveness is that in time it results in a build up of fear and rebellion in the person that feels criticized. Fear and rebellion tend to produce a kind of paralysis that works against our healthier motivations.

That is why I am trying to take a non-critical kind and gentle approach with myself as I struggle to learn to eat in a healthy way. I have faith that treating myself well is the best way to get well.

The alley behind the mission was a dead end. It went just beyond the mission and then widened into a turn around for cars. There were benches along the alley. Men gathered there for conversation and to smoke. The men talked about the things men usually talk about. things like woman, sports, gossip, religion, politics and women again. Sometimes they also talked about memories; old hurts, lost families, cars they had owned, and military experiences.

Once in awhile, I heard laughter. Often I heard anger. A few times I was called upon to break up fights. Once I overheard someone say, “There goes George and that damn smile.” I took it as a compliment.

Los Angeles had the privilege of having two of the greatest sports announcers in the history of broadcasting. Vin Scully did the Dodgers baseball team and Chick Hearn did the Lakers. If the Lakers or the Dodgers were playing you could count on there being a number radios out back in the alley tuned in.

It wasn’t just the mission folks that listened either. The homeless people that slept on the sidewalks or under the bridges had their radios tuned in also.

Street talk included Chick’s phrases like “The mustard came off the hotdog” or “Into the popcorn machine”, or “No Harm, no foul,” just like talk in the suburbs was enriched by his sayings.

Vin is special in a different way. He has us all, skid row and suburbs, convinced that he loves us and that he thinks we deserve the very best broadcast he can possibly give us. He has such dignity and joy in his speech. He was sort of the uncle the street people wished they had.Â

I wonder if Chick knew and if Vin knows how much good they do for the homeless? Those two great men have given street people a lot of joy despite the fact that the homeless live in a very unhappy situation.

Aug 16

Food was a major concern for my family. I knew hunger intimately growing up.

We were in one of those low food periods. We had a loaf of bread, a small bottle of dried beef, and money enough for me to go to the store for a pound of flour.

My Mom was going to make chipped beef on toast. The white sauce was to be made without milk. It would be salty, peppery, and would seem nutritious though it certainly was not. I was looking forward to the meal.

I rode my bike to the store. I was in the process of riding my bike home with the flour.

There was a dirt alley that came off the street behind our project apartment. After it came off the street, the alley made a ninety degree left turn as it approached our building. I was just negotiating the left turn. I was almost home.

A car roared into the alley. The driver wanted to frighten me so he acted like he was going to hit me. I was anticipating the meal so I wasn’t paying attention. I was so startled that I fell off my bike and dropped the flour. The driver swerved  his car so he could run over the flour. With dismay, I looked at the destroyed package of ruined flour.

I went into the house and told my Mom. She was furious with me and bawled me out. She said nothing about the driver of the car. I see her point in a way. She faced the problem of a family to feed and no food to give them.That would have badly upset me when, in time, I had a family to feed.

We went back outside and picked up the paper package the flour had come in. We salvaged enough flour to make a watery version of chipped beef on toast.

These days I have an abundance of nutritious food to eat. However, that old hunger fear and hunger humiliation is still with me.

Aug 17,2006

Last night on the way to bed, I snuck three Halloween size, little candy bars. I wasn’t hungry. These people give me sincere and total access to any food in the house, at any time. They repeatedly ask me if there is anything I want when they go to the store. I wasn’t hungry. I had just finished a late, large, delicious meal.

Why did I eat unhealthy food that is not a favorite of mine. The uncomfortable truth is that it satisfies something in me to sneak food.

I was cleaning the kitchen by myself. I wanted to lick the salad dressing spoon before I put it into the dishwasher. I did not do it, but I, but I wanted to.

I live alone, so there is no opportunity to sneak food in my apartment. Still, I enjoy the reality that no one checks up on my eating.

About thirty years ago, right after I got married, my wife commented on me returning to the kitchen to eat soon after dinner. Her comment was not unkind and was gently spoken. I exploded .

I went to the fridge and ate every thing I could stuff in my mouth in order to punish her. She never made another comment about my eating. If I could have accepted her help, maybe I would not have to lose 60 pounds today.

At this point, I am welcoming my lovely daughter’s help. I am talking about my eating now. That is one thing that makes it seem possible for me to believe that I can now lose weight. Oops. I want to learn to say  eat healthy instead of lose weight. For me, the idea of losing weight carries with it being hungry all the time.

Aug18

One Saturday morning, when I was about ten, I woke up to find that there was nothing at all to eat for breakfast. I wasn’t shocked or resentful. I suppose I felt that things like that happened to everyone once in a while.

I went outside to play. In a few minutes I started feeling weak. A few minutes later I passed out from hunger.

I woke up on our living room couch. I must have been out for awhile because we now had some food. My Mom was offering me a bowl of corn flakes. My mouth waters now, as I write this, at the memory of how good that food tasted. I gobbled it down.

Apparently, my Dad had phoned a church friend, Mister Calvin, and told him our problem. Mister Calvin had gone to the store, purchased the food and brought it to us.

My Mom wanted to limit me to one bowl. That made me angry. I said, “One bowl isn’t enough, I’m still hungry.” She relented. I don’t know if my siblings got something to eat or not. I hope they did.

Aug 19

Thanksgiving was a big event growing up. Many times we went to my Aunt Nellie’s House. Other times we went to the home of one of my sisters. Enormous quantities of food was served to the 20-25 people in attendance.

I stuffed myself. I always wanted and generally got the turkey drumstick. After dinner the men played touch football. The games got pretty rough as the younger of us were intent on proving ourselves to be men at the expense of the older male family members.

After the game I would be ready to eat again. I ate till it hurt.

Note: My sister Ruth commented on this journal saying that she thought it would bear fruit. I enjoyed that comment. It would be great if as I learn to eat physical food in a healthy way, I would find the other kind of food. After all, fruit is a food. George

Aug 21

I have been on a camping trip. I slept on an air mattrees on the ground. Standing up when I woke up was hard because of my size.

One morning I could not get to my feet. I had a chair outside my tent. I crawled backwards out of the tent and used the chair to help me stand. I was embarassed. My shame about my body began to flame.

I prayed. I welcomed God into my shameful place. My self torment eased. I still was embarassed, but I stayed out of a shame spin cycle.

As I wrote the above, I was reminded of a washing machine. [I am doing laundry as I write.] I need to keep myself out of the spin cycle and keep my self in the wash and rinse cycles.

Every time I feel that excruciating shame pain about my body I have a choice to make. I can damage myself by indulging in a self hate shame spin or I can wash and rinse myself of my shame by welcoming God into my shame and by expressing my shame to people. This journal helps me express my shame. My loving sister’s comments are deeply shame freeing too.

Aug 22

Today was a food disaster. I am exhausted from a long train trip. On the train, I ate about as healthily as I could eating Amtrak food. When I got home I did not want to eat the food I had on hand. I went out looking for something to satisfy me.

I fell into the Taco Bell trap again. I ordered Nachos Bel Grande. I couldn’t eat the nachos until I got home so I ordered a burrito to eat in route. The burrito was purely panic eating. When I am tired and very hungry I revert to outdated food terrors. I could not calm myself. I could not simply sit quietly with my anxiety.

The trick now is to stay out of a shame spiral. God help me. Doing this writing helps.

Aug 23

The senior housing building where I live had a barbecue for the residents today. They served hamburgers and hotdogs along with chips, potato salad, macaroni salad, watermelon and cake. It was enjoyable. I didn’t eat very much of the bread or any of the macaroni salad.

I won a door prize. It was a box of fancy cookies. I ate three of the cookies. The rest are in my apartment. I want to throw them away. I haven’t done it yet. I am hoping that writing about the cookies wil empower me not to eat them. The resistance to throwing them away is centered around possessiveness. I won them. The cookies are my prize. Its a party. I want to celebrate.

I grocery shopped today. I only bought healthy food.

Later: I managed to throw the cookies away.

Aug 24

I thought about weighing at the gym today. I do not own a bathroom scale. Weighing myself has been a trigger for a shame spin in the past. I did not weigh myself, but I felt I could of done so with greater safety than I could of a year ago.

I may have lost a little weight judging from the way my Levis fit. I may be kidding myself though.

Good news. I chose the McDonalds Asian Chicken Salad over more damaging food choices. for lunch. I couldn’t have waited to get home to eat because I needed to eat before I hit the gym.

At a recent meeting I attended, a speaker made a distinction between pain and suffering.

According to her, pain is a part of the ordinary living of life. It is the common experience of all human beings. We have no ability to order our existence so that pain is excluded.

Suffering on the other hand is avoidable. Suffering is the mixing of all our experiences, good and bad with a diseased mind set. For example, if I get a work promotion, it can trigger a suffering response based on my feeling guilty that my friend did not get promoted. Getting a promotion is a good thing, but my distorted mind set can use the good thing to provoke misery. Let me illustrate.

In my mind, I have a picture of a farm kitchen. On the wood burning stove in the kitchen, is a very large pot. In the pot is a soup some people call back burner soup. The pot has been on the stove for many days. Each day, soup is served from the pot to the family. Every day, fresh leftovers and more water are added to the pot. It is kept simmering constantly.

The soup is continuously evolving. Sometimes the soup is a little better, sometimes it is a little worse, but back burner soup is never wonderful.

When leftovers are added to the soup, they quickly lose their distinctiveness. The blended together flavors of the soup take over. The new leftovers become dominated by all that has gone into the pot in the past.

In the back burner soup of my mind, the events of my day do not determine whether or not I am suffering. An event may well cause me pain, but it will not result in suffering unless I process it in an unhealthy way.

Happy events can also cause me suffering. Pleasant or unpleasant, today’s events, plunged into my sick mind are completely dominated by the distasteful soup made up of all the distorted interpretations I have put on the events of my life for many years.

Pain is inevitable. However, pain is manageable. It is just pain. It won’t kill me. However, stirring and mixing my pain into my sick thinking causes suffering.

Suffering of that sort is deadly. It can literally kill me. Whether or not it kills me physically, suffering will inevitably murder my life one day at a time.

I am going through an experience in my family that to me is about as bad as I can imagine. In a way, it is my worse nightmare coming true.

I called a friend a few days ago. She suggested that I sit with my pain and fears instead of incessantly trying to push them out of my consciousness.  I took her suggestion. Here are the things I learned from sitting with my fears.

1.  My fears have lost their power. They can not ruin my life. They are not going to push me into another depression. They can not keep me from enjoying my life.

They cause me pain. They do really hurt, but I can sit with them in safety. My fears are no longer necessarily a threat.

Years ago, my fears completely dominated me. However, that was when I was a little boy. The fears were big and overwhelming. I was small and vulnerable.

Now I am a mature man. I am very strong. I can safely sit with my fears.

2.  My fears have something to say to me. They are saying, “Please process me. I have been waiting for you to deal with me for sixty years. Can you finally deal with me now?”

“Deal with me”, is all my fears have to say. All the other messages come from my disease. My disease jumps onto my fears in order to say various versions of “THE SKY IS FALLING. THE SKY IS FALLING.”

It is these predictions of total disaster that cause my suffering. When I allow my fears to fall into the back burner soup by not processing them, the fears immediately assume the character of the soup. They become sick, unnecessary, suffering.

3. When I concentrate on listening to the voice of my fears, I notice something astounding. Their frightened voice is my own voice. It is my voice at age five It is the tender, wonderful, timid voice of five year old Georgie.

Georgie is asking the powerful adult George to be his parent. Georgie’s blood parents completely lacked the ability to help him. In truth, they were asking Georgie to be the parent and help them handle their fears.

George finally has the power to deal with Georgie’s terror. If he chooses to do so, George can listen calmly, turn the fears over to God with Georgie, and then find some way to celebrate the victory together.

4. I do not want my diseased panic to cause me to ignore the voice of Georgie. That his pain was ignored back then is a tragedy. I want to make sure Georgie gets heard today.

Years ago, I came to a meeting with my mind dominated by fear. There was trouble between me and one of my daughters. I was very frightened about my financial future, I was furious at the Christian community. I was not yet used to not working. I missed the routine of a schedule and regular responsibilities. I was worried that my career decisions were defective. I suppose there were other things circling around in my head that were disturbing my peace.

My friend came over to me before the meeting began.

She said, “Are you as unhappy as you look?”

I said, “I sure am. I am very frightened. I just can’t seem to find any relief no matter what I do.”

“George, attach a percentage to your fear and attach a percentage to your faith.”

“I have 97% fear and 3% faith.”

I wasn’t exaggerating. In fact I felt guilty about feeling afraid.  I felt guilty about feeling guilty. God had given me so much. I had many years of experience that should have told me that God was taking care of me. Yet I was terrified.

She said. ” That 3% faith that you have is enough for God. That is your mustard seed faith.”

I felt better immediately.

When Jesus talked about mustard seed faith, he was not emphasizing the size of our faith. Jesus was talking more about the size of God. His point was that the tiniest faith in such an overwhelmingly powerful God is a enough to move mountains.

I borrowed my daughter’s car a few months ago. She owns a very powerful car. As I was trying to enter the freeway, I hit the gas pedal like I would in my old Volvo. The car roared onto the freeway. It accelerated so rapidly I thought I might lose control. Just a little push on the accelerator would have been enough to get me on the freeway given the power of the engine.

So it is with God. The love, creativity, imagination and power of God is so awesome that a little tiny bit of faith is enough to allow us to enjoy the full abundance of God’s grace.

My friends point about faith was demonstrated to me over the years from then to now. They have been wonderful years.

Aug 3, 2006
I am faced with a family crisis. I am trying to not eat my way through it. I bought a big shake and dumped it out on the way home. I am hungry and have eaten too much cheesy food. Salty grease is a trigger food for me. Sometimes I don’t feel like I have eaten unless I have eaten salty grease. If I feel shame over what I have eaten I will tend to repeat the mistake. The temptation to berate myself motivates much of my destructive behaviour.

Aug 4, 2006

Twice now I have stopped on the way home from a meeting and got Taco Bell food. They probably have healthy food on their menu, but I was there to eat unhealthy food.

I don’t know why I did that. I know I am in lots of pain. I don’t want to eat that kind of food today. It is so easy for me to form bad eating habits. It seems harder for me to learn good eating habits.

Am I entirely ready to have God remove this character defect? I am more ready than I was six months ago, but I need patience to wait until I am entirely ready. Nothing gets better when I allow my inner critic to tear me apart.

My weight is my dominant thought about mysellf. I am sure my family and friends are aware of me being overweight, but my loved ones defining thoughts in regard to me have to do with my character assets not my weight.

“God grant me the serenity to accept the things I can not change.” My sick mind cannot heal this sick area of my thought life. I need a power greater than myself to lead me to health in regard to food before my next birthday which is July 27, 2007, when I will be 69. I believe that this is the year chosen by God for me to find health in regard to food. My Higher Power in the food area is the love and respect my children and friends give me. The God I know at the higher level is still an angry judging God when the issue is my eating.

Aug 8, 2006

I want to deal with my eating shame. Putting my feelings into words in this journal scares me and helps me.

I have pushed aside the fear to do the writing I am doing right now. I am writing again because someone read this journal and commented on it.

Thanks Karin. You helped me know that I am not alone. I am reminded that there are others that are asking God for the same help for which I am asking.

I have learned that the things that come to me quickly do not seem to last. The things that God systematically builds into me are mine permanently. That may not be true of you at all. It is true of me. I want to heal in the area of food slowly, deeply and permanently.

Aug 9, 2006

One of my daughters made an interesting comment. She said that some books are written for and work for people who eat too much but do not have all the negative emotional tie ins about food.

Those books do not help me. In fact they hurt me because they add to my food shame load because they are sure to fail in my case.

She further said that she thought that me, I would have to find my own unique food solution. One size does not fit all, so to speak.

Her remarks help me to be patient with myself as I learn to improve my eating habits. I need to be perfect. I don’t learn things well if I don’t learn them quickly. By writing this journal, I am seeing that my eating problems are grounded in pretty severe early abuse and neglect. Kindly self parenting is in order.

Aug 10, 2006

I am going out to breakfast with a good friend. For fifty years, eating breakfast at a restaurant has been a reward to myself. I love the taste and feel of eggs and hashbrowns. I also like oatmeal. I hope to eat oatmeal. It will be hard to order oatmeal.

If I do order oatmeal, I will feel better physically and emotionally afterwards. I wonder if the reward I want to give myself could become the good feeling afterward instead of the food I eat.

I was exercising with a friend. I went to the bathroom. While I was in the bathroom I decided to tell him how self conscious I felt about my weight. My friend is very fit. I told him.

He said to a Buddhist, my belly would represent a zest for life. He also said that the most important thing about my appearance was how I carried myself. To him, I had a confident, powerful bearing. He assured me that my appearance was not shameful. I thank him for his insight. It reduced my shame about my body.

I went to breakfast. I had three eggs, two pancakes, hashbrowns, and chicken fried steak. So much for oatmeal.

I didn’t eat the egg yokes, the pancakes were seven grain and I only ate half of them.

In regard to food, I am still defining freedom as the freedom to eat anything I want. That is like saying, “I am free to drive down the wrong side of the Hollywood freeway during rush hour.” It is much too dangerous a behaviour to say that to do it is being free. Eating like that is also very dangerous.

What is freedom for me in regard to food? I want to enjoy food. I don’t want eating to have that frantic edge that it has now. I don’t want to be hungry, but I don’t want to be afraid of being hungry. I don’t want to eat as an act of rebellion against authority.

I don’t want to be self-conscious about my body. I hate feeling this constant undercurrent of shame about my appearance. I want to be well conditioned physically.

Aug 11, 2006

I am noticing the following about my eating as I pray and meditate. These observations are listed from least acceptable to most desirable.

1. Being hungry. My boyhood experience.

2. Eating too much of the wrong foods. True of most of my life.

3. Eating too much but sometimes eating the right foods. Where I am now.

4. Eating too much but generally eating the right foods. I am learning to do this now.

5. Eating an appropriate amount of the right foods. Where I want to be, by my next birthday.

My biggest overeating mistake right now is using food for comfort.

I think I have finally come to believe that God can restore me to sanity. Trying to lose weight seemed pointless before, because I was so sure I was going to fail. Now, at least I have hope.

Aug 12, 2006

If a person is an alcoholic, no one knows it except when he is drinking. When he is sober, he looks like anyone else. I always look like I have an eating problem 24 hours of every day. I am so ashamed.

I tried to explain this to my doctor. I told her that being publically weighed was a very traumatic experience for me. It is horrible and humiliating. It is so upsetting that my blood pressure goes through the roof. It is so upsetting that it makes it very hard for me to go to the doctor.

She said, “No one likes it” and dismissed my pain.

She was wrong. People without the shame of a weight problem do not suffer at a weigh in, anything like I do.

Body shame drives so much of my poor adjustments to life.

Aug 13, 2006

Years ago, one of the young people I sometime counseled came by the house asking for help. He had just entered college at a very good school. He felt intimidated. He was not sure he had what it took to compete academically at that school.

I took him out to the garage and put a four by eight piece of 1/2 inch plywood on the cement. I told him to move the plywood around with his foot. He looked a little puzzled but did as I asked. The plywood was easy to move.

Then I stood on the plywood. I asked him to again use his foot to move the plywood. He knew he would not be able to move it, but he was a good sport and tried.

I told him, “You can easily succeed in college. You are highly intelligent, hard working and diligent. However, if your success academically gets all loaded down with your value as a human being, and your acceptance by your family, it will make school success much more difficult.”

It is like that with my weight for me. The primary issue for me about my weight is not my health, comfort, or ease of mobility. The issue of eating for me, is all weighted down with my acceptability as a human being, my masculinity, my ability to attract a mate, and my self esteem. All that weight on the issue of healthy eating makes it much harder for me to eat in a healthy way. The fear of failure freezes me, and leads to bad eating decisions.

Aug 14, 2006

I mentioned earlier that I love salty grease. I made a connection a few minutes ago.

Sometimes my mother would worry about my health. When she worried about me, she loaded up the fridge with cheddar cheese. To her, cheese was health food.

I was starved, but not for cheese. I was starved for signs of tenderness from my Mom. I wonder if cheese became a symbol of mother’s care for me?

That would mean I want a bean and cheese burritto when what I really want female attention.

I AM ABOUT TO EAT FOOD I DON’T WANT TO KEEP FROM OFFENDING MY HOST. THAT IS A LESSON FOR ANOTHER DAY.
Aug 15, 2006

I was about two years old. My grandfather always had a can of milk in the refridgerator for his coffee. The can had two holes made by an icepick on one side. There was one hole on the other side of the can. The two hole side was the pouring side and the one hole side was for air intake.

I would sneak into the kitchen and open the fridge. I carefully looked around to make sure no one was looking. Then I sucked on the can on the one hole side. The milk tasted so good, and the sucking reached way down inside of me with satisfaction.

I kept sucking as long as I could. Every few seconds, I checked the weight of the can. I wanted to make sure that there was enough milk left for Grandpa’s coffee. I did not want to be found out. When the milk was almost gone I would reluctantly put the can back and close the fridge.

By that age I had already learned to sneak food. How did I learn that? I don’t know, but I can not imagine a pleasant explanation.

I still sneak food. There is a shameful aspect to my eating most of the time. I snuck food less than an hour ago.

I have been told of another food incident in my life at about two years old. I remember the canned milk incident, but this memory is a second hand one.

My mom and my aunts decided to see how many eggs I would eat. I ate six eggs. I would have eaten more, but they were afraid I would get sick.

At two years old I did not have an accurate gauge to tell me when I was full. My feeling is that I already did not trust the universe to adequately feed me. I had to eat as much as I could while I had the chance.